TIC Chapter 36: The Past Hatred of the Golden-Eyed God

Having a damaged soul was really unpleasant, and for a while, Lin Fuqing remained in a semi-coma state, unable to wake up.

He vaguely saw the bright flash of lightning through his eyelids and knew that an old friend had arrived. Then he vaguely heard Lu Kuifu’s rough and hoarse voice calling out “Lord” in a panic. He slammed his knees to the ground and said in agony that he’d arrived late.

Don’t, Lin Fuqing thought to himself in a daze. Lu Kuifu was still the honorable Immortal Sovereign. If someone saw him, Liuhua Continent would be in turmoil.

He heard Fang Zhiyuan’s voice again—low, hoarse, and trembling. Lin Fuqing strained to listen, but he couldn’t make out what his star was saying.

All he could think, blankly, was: It’s over. It’s over, it’s over, it’s over. Just now, he’d said he would teach him a lesson when they returned to the inn. But now… he couldn’t even scold his little calamity star anymore. He might have to coax him instead…

A sharp pain stabbed through his sea of consciousness. Lin Fuqing’s awareness could no longer hold on and sank deeper.

And as he sank, he began to see strange, surreal scenes.

The sky cracked, and negative energy surged in reverse.

He stood alone in the sky above the peak of Xuyun. Everything below was a field of ash. Dark waves surged up and swallowed him whole. All light disappeared.

He fell. Darkness clouded his eyes; cold numbed his limbs. He couldn’t tell whether he was falling from the sky or sinking into the depths of the sea.

Then, in a flash, he saw the four peaks of Xuyun, covered in lush grass and soaring birds.

Under the sacred tree, he unearthed a jar of fine wine he’d buried the year before. A younger Fang Zhiyuan, in a black shirt with tousled hair, rested his chin in his palm and smiled at him. Sparks of longing flickered in his eyes.

A little girl in red came barefoot through the new grass, flinging herself into his and Fang Zhiyuan’s arms. The wine jar tipped over, soaking the thin clothes of the three siblings.

Trapped in the dreamlike chaos, Lin Fuqing felt a vague sadness.

…Why make him see a dream like this?

He saw the abandoned Snow Bone City, it’s towering walls that once pierced the sky now in rubble.

Blood clotted into black patches, and shadows of chaotic figures swirled before his eyes—like demons and monsters clawing their way out of Asura Hell, dancing in madness.

“What day is it today? The tenth…The thirteenth?”

“This demon lord looked handsome, but who’d have thought he’d be so stubborn? Still won’t beg for mercy even in this state…”

“Hey, he’s no longer moving.”

“God, don’t let him pass out. Let’s go and…”

He saw a boat cutting through the reeds.

The setting sun dyed the sea red.

Fifth Song led at the bow, steering a small boat. Third Xun sat at the stern, playing the guqin. The warmth in his eyes and expression flowed into the music.

A long sea breeze swept over, carrying with it the sound of singing from outer sect disciples with Yin bodies. The melody rose and fell, sometimes near, sometimes far.

Inside the cabin, he had just finished cooking braised fish and a few side dishes, paired with mellow wine. He called his star and Xiao Hongtang over to help. Yu Hongtang spilled the vinegar, and Fang Zhiyuan bent down to clean it up, cursing under his breath.

Fourth Ye pulled the bamboo curtain aside, leaning forward with a laugh. “Third Brother, stop playing the guqin! Little Wu, stop the boat! It’s time to eat—come inside!”

He saw golden eyes high above.

In the darkness, iron hooks pierced his nine joints, suspending him barely alive before the golden-eyed stranger.

The stranger looked at him in wonder, stroked him, and praised him as the most exquisite cauldron.

Screams echoed—shrill, desperate, helpless, and broken. Lin Fuqing couldn’t believe they came from himself.

“God, look, he’s crying!”

“Still pretending to be proud and unyielding? You’re still not… hehe.”

“Hahaha! He’s dying! He’s dying!!”

…Why let him see this kind of dream?

Lin Fuqing felt up; he just wanted to wake up. He didn’t have time for such filthy dreams.

But the nightmare clung to his heart like a demon and would not let go.

He saw blood and fire merge. Yin Changxin placed a hand on his head, his expression sorrowful yet indifferent.

“So filthy…”

“Lin Fuqing, who gave you permission to become a demon?”

He saw the Mountains, Sea, and Stars Platform. Ji Na stood far away.

A pillar of fire descended from the heavens, burning the purple figure of the Holy Son to ashes. The scorching light stung his eyes and brought tears.

From far off, Ji Na’s voice rang out, “Lin Fuqing, do you regret it…?”

Lin Fuqing answered calmly: No, I don’t.

I’ll never regret it.

A weak but warm force lifted his consciousness. He remembered the fire again—the bonfire Fang Zhiyuan had lit for him on a cold night as they fled.

The light before his eyes grew brighter, and his senses gradually returned. He felt himself held in familiar arms, voices buzzing all around.

“…Mmm…”

He forced his eyes open, and the world slowly came into focus.

“Da Shixiong… wuuuu…” Ye Huaguo knelt beside him, holding his hand. When she saw him wake, she burst into sobs. “You’re okay, it’s okay. We’re all here… You’ve taken the elixir—you’ll be fine…”

Lin Fuqing felt drained, unable to speak. He vaguely thought: Why are you not stuttering?

He shifted slightly and realized he was leaning against Fang Zhiyuan’s chest. Fang Zhiyuan’s eyes were dark, head lowered, arms tightly holding him. In a hoarse voice, he said, “…Don’t move.”

A crowd had gathered on the cliff. It must have been Immortal Sovereign Lu’s thunder sky axe that shocked the surrounding immortal sects into rushing over.

He recognized faces at a glance—Yuan Ziyi from the academy, the little demon boy from Senluo Stone Palace, Xuanyuan Yi from Sword Valley… all familiar.

Xun Mingsi was confronting Ji Na. His usually refined voice had turned chillingly cold. “If Ziwei Pavilion doesn’t give us an explanation, Xuyun will never let this go!”

The Ziwei disciples had all awakened. Saint Ziwei bowed. “This happened within our pavilion. After we return, Ji Na will personally investigate thoroughly.”

Xun Mingsi sneered. “Return? Holy Son Ji, do you think we’re toddlers to be fooled so easily?”

Behind them was Ziwei Pavilion’s massive millet boat. Song Youdu sat on the bow, face expressionless. “No one leaves the millet boat without permission.”

He weighed a small hammer in his right hand. The flying formation had already been smashed to bits.

“This…”

The Ziwei disciples looked at one another. Long accustomed to arrogance and detachment, they’d never faced such aggression.

The Star Guardians stepped in front of Ji Na. One growled, “Xuyun, don’t go too far! The Holy Son has promised a full investigation—what more do you want?”

“Hmph! A full investigation, you say?”

A mocking laugh drew everyone’s eyes, and they saw with surprise that it was the little demon boy.

Shentu Linchun crossed his arms, chin raised. “Once the doors close, who knows if your investigation is ‘thorough’ or not? After all, even your Saint can’t explain the origins of his own elders. Tsk tsk. Are you two in on it together?”

“What nonsense!” Even mild-tempered Ji Na couldn’t hold back his anger when questioned like this. “Ji Na swears on his Dao heart that he had no intention of harming anyone!”

The scene was chaotic, but Immortal Lu Kuifu was nowhere in sight. Lin Fuqing’s temples throbbed.

He took a deep breath, turned slightly, and rasped out, “Mingsi, enough… Don’t be rude. Come here.”

His voice came out hoarse and frail. Ye Huaguo panicked again. “Da Shixiong! Stop talking! You need to rest—we’ll be back at the inn soon…”

“…No, I’m fine,” Lin Fuqing murmured, bewildered. He’d only fainted. Wasn’t this overreaction a bit much?

Ye Huaguo ignored him, sobbing harder. “Little Fifth…Little Fifth! Please stop arguing and take us back to the inn! Da Shixiong is seriously injured, and Fang Shixiong too…”

Only then did Lin Fuqing begin to understand. Oh right. These disciples, raised in seclusion on Taiqing Island, had never seen him hurt before.

No wonder she was terrified. Especially Ye Huaguo, as a healer—her crying was like howling…
Lin Fuqing coughed and reminded her gently, “Huaguo, you just said I’m fine.”
Ye Huaguo sniffled, “W-Well, that’s what a doctor will say to comfort the patient!”
“I really am fine. Don’t make a fuss… This isn’t entirely Ziwei Pavilion’s fault. I trust Saint Ji.”
“Oooh!” Shentu Linchun shouted from the sidelines, pretending to be surprised. “So the little immortal from Xuyun is as kind and benevolent as they say! Speaking up for the people who harmed him—what a saint!”
“…”
Lin Fuqing felt a tightness in his chest, and he became angry.
He tried to sit up, but an arm swept over and gently pulled him back.
Fang Zhiyuan frowned and leaned in, his voice low and rasping in Lin Fuqing’s ear. “Lie still. Close your eyes and sleep. You just coughed blood all over me, and your soul and sea of consciousness are injured. What more do you want?”
“…Zhiyuan.”
Lin Fuqing’s headache became worse.

It was fine if these guys were upset. He also accepted Shentu’s capricious temper. But you, this man with a soul of over a hundred years old, and even an immortal sovereign in your previous life, why are you adding fuel to the fire?!

Fang Zhiyuan kept his head lowered, but swept his sinister and murderous eyes in the direction of Ziwei Pavilion, stopping at Ji Na.

“Explain.”

“If you can’t provide an explanation, I’ll have your head.”

Xun Mingsi and Song Youdu were frustrated, feeling as if they had lost. They quietly retreated back to Lin Fuqing.

Lin Fuqing thought desolately: Ok, this guy must have done it on purpose.

It’s over. He feared he wouldn’t be able to appease him this time.

Ziwei Pavilion had always been arrogant. There was even a popular joke that goes: Whenever there’s a problem in the secular world, it’s usually the Golden Osmanthus Palace that pays, Shisong Academy that sends people, and Ziwei Pavilion… that becomes famous.

As a result, although the Pavilion held a high status in the eyes of mortals and low-level cultivators, its “immortal fate” among the major immortal sects was actually quite poor.

Besides, Ziwei Pavilion was clearly in the wrong this time, and everyone present was happy just to watch the spectacle. No one spoke up for them. Even someone as good-natured as Yuan Ziyi frowned.

“Ziwei Pavilion is going too far…”

“Look how badly Immortal Lin is injured, and he still wants to repay evil with kindness… Alas.”

“If his master, Taoist Xuyun, finds out about this, it’ll be a disaster…”

Ji Na had never been so humiliated before. His hands trembled with anger. “How dare you, evil star…”

Though Jina had shown remorse in front of Xuyun and the others, he revealed only disgust for Fang Zhiyuan, the Star of Calamity.

Fang Zhiyuan didn’t care in the slightest. People from Ziwei Pavilion were the most obsessed with the fate of the stars. He had no interest in this so-called young saint who seemed aloof and indifferent on the surface, but with every emotion written plainly across his face.

And Lin Fuqing… Lin Fuqing was so frustrated with this whole group that he didn’t even have the energy to be exasperated anymore.

His own junior apprentice couldn’t stop him, a little demon boy had joined in to stir things up, and Fang Zhiyuan was so furious he went out of his way to make trouble. As for Ji Na—what did that sheltered child, raised on the Mountain, Sea, and Star Platform, know about the real world?

That was right. Ziwei Pavilion’s millet boat had been flying peacefully in the sky… and Zhiyuan cut it down with a single slash.

Just cut it down. And he himself thought the elder of Ziwei Pavilion was mentally unwell and hated him so much that he had to provoke him into a fight right there and then, causing all the chaos that followed.

When he said that Ji Na was not to be blamed, he was being truthful. So why didn’t anyone believe him?

Fortunately, thunder rumbled at that moment. Lu Kuifu rode the wind and lightning down, landing on the cliff.

Before the Immortal Sovereign, all the members of the Immortal Sect bowed in unison.

Lu Kuifu first glanced toward Lin Fuqing. Seeing he had awakened and calmed down, he said gravely:

“When a Mahayana cultivator dies, their soul usually escapes. However, I traveled over a hundred miles and found no trace of Elder Wang’s soul. This person is definitely no ordinary cultivator.”

Lu Kuifu then approached Ji Na and said solemnly, “I ask Saint Ziwei to remain in Liuhua Continent for the time being. This matter will be personally investigated and judged by my Golden Osmanthus Palace.”

As soon as he spoke, everyone from Ziwei Pavilion paled.

Immortal Sovereign Lu’s words sounded fair and reasonable on the surface. But on closer thought, wasn’t he basically detaining Ji Na until proven innocent?

And what followed was even more shocking. Immortal Sovereign Lu actually turned to Xuyun and the others and asked in a low voice, “I wonder if you Immortal Lords find this resolution… satisfactory?”

All the immortals were stunned, holding their breath.

As the leader of the immortals, when did he ever need to ask others whether they were satisfied?

Even if he did want to ask, why these people? Why ask Xuyun and a few young juniors whether they were content—with Ji Na being the one detained?

And that respectful tone… Lu Kuifu had led the immortals for so many years with unwavering integrity, never one for hollow politeness or diplomacy. What was going on today?

How could Lin Fuqing not know?

He was terrified by Lu Kuifu’s veiled glance, worried that the next sentence might be: “Your Majesty,” followed by “This minister was late to your aid.”

How could he dare say he wasn’t satisfied?

Lu Kuifu nodded, raised his hand, and swept it through the air. A crack opened on the cliffside, carrying the faint fragrance of osmanthus blossoms. It led deep into the Golden Osmanthus Palace.

Wherever the mind of a transcendent immortal goes, even the rules of space must obey.

Lu Kuifu acted as if it were a trifling matter. Still watching Lin Fuqing, he said in a deep voice, “Golden Osmanthus Palace has the finest physicians and elixirs. Please, come in.”

Fang Zhiyuan rose while supporting Lin Fuqing.

He didn’t bother to thank Lu Kuifu. Turning to his fellow disciples, he said, “Follow me,” and carried Lin Fuqing into the spatial rift.

…At last, the chaos had come to an end.

Lin Fuqing let out a breath of relief, but as his nerves began to relax, his consciousness grew blurry again.

He closed his eyes and nestled into Fang Zhiyuan’s arms. Startled, Zhiyuan held him tightly. “Shige? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine… Just going to sleep a bit longer.”

Lin Fuqing rested his forehead on Fang Zhiyuan’s shoulder, gently nuzzling against him. It seemed to be an apology, a plea for forgiveness.

“It was my fault for casting the sealing spell on you earlier. Don’t be mad. I’ll make it up to you… when I wake up.”

 

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